


Sweater Weather

by eqyptiangold



Series: A Collection of Sterek One Shots [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Temperature Play, like 70 percent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 10:25:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17098847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eqyptiangold/pseuds/eqyptiangold
Summary: Stiles ran his hands along the soft wool covering his boyfriend’s chest. “When did you buy a new sweater?”Derek shrugged unhelpfully, more focused on pressing his nose to Stiles’ neck. Due to Stiles’ sudden influx of homework, the pair hadn’t seen each other since the night prior when they’d fucked sleepily before passing out with their limbs tangled.“I have never seen this sweater before and we’ve been dating for months,” Stiles continued, unable to quell his interest. “I’ve seen all your clothes, dude. I’ve even worn most of them.”





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> basically just fluff with a hint of smut mixed in

Of all the things Stiles would’ve expected Derek Hale to wear to the latest weekly pack meeting, a maroon knitted sweater would’ve fallen near the bottom of the list. Less likely than a button up but much less surprising than anything even remotely yellow. Absently, Stiles added Seeing Derek in Bright Sunflower Yellow to his bucket list.

“What are you wearing?” the question fell from his lips before Stiles could think it through. Thankfully, his boyfriend merely quirked one of those impressive eyebrows. After a moment of eye contact, Derek seemed to decide the question didn’t deserve a response and continued his original path into the living room. He settled on an overstuffed armchair—part of the matching furniture that Stiles had recently coaxed him into buying. (“If you do not buy some goddamn Ikea couches I will wax all your hair in your sleep, Derek.”). Habitually, Stiles followed him like a shadow, plopping down on the werewolf’s muscular thighs. Unable to drop the question as easily as Derek had, the teenager ran his hands along the soft wool covering his boyfriend’s chest. “When did you buy a new sweater?”

Derek shrugged unhelpfully, more focused on pressing his nose to Stiles’ neck. Due to Stiles’ sudden influx of homework, the pair hadn’t seen each other since the night prior when they’d fucked sleepily before passing out with their limbs tangled.

“I have never seen this sweater before and we’ve been dating for months,” Stiles continued, unable to quell his interest. “I’ve seen all your clothes, dude. I’ve even worn most of them.” Despite the increasing curiosity, Derek continued to nose at the teenager’s neck. He made the occasional humming noise that sounded somewhere between possessive and general happiness to see his boyfriend. It made Stiles melt a tiny bit inside, even though he’d heard the sound time and time again. Not enough to make him forget the maroon sweater, however. “Are you cheating on me? And wearing your new guy’s clothes to pack meetings?”

Though he’d said it as a joke, Stiles knew the question would be enough to at the very least get a verbal response. Derek straightened up to look him in the face, absently winding an arm around Stiles’ thin waist. “Enough about the sweater,” he said, gently kissing the teenager. Stiles melted into it, twisting until his lanky legs were tossed over the arm of the chair so that he didn’t have to twist as uncomfortably to reach Derek’s surprisingly soft mouth.

Finally, the quickly looming make out session was enough to draw attention from the rest of the pack. Up until then, the others had seemed content to chat amongst themselves while Stiles had interrogated Derek about his new article of clothing. “Come on, man,” Scott groaned, while Erica tossed a few kernels of popcorn in their direction.

“Fine,” Stiles murmured regretfully, slowly detaching himself from his boyfriend. “We’re talking more about this later,” he instructed, tapping a stern finger on the knitted fabric. Derek nodded subtly, as if to say he expected nothing less. Or maybe Stiles was reading too much into a tiny nod, but whatever. If his boyfriend decided to be a man of few words, Stiles could take from the gestures what he wanted.

Despite his promise of later, the teenager just couldn’t forget about the sweater throughout the meeting. Even as they discussed the strange new weather anomalies happening only in Beacon Hills, Stiles kept touching the soft wool like it was an addiction. It wasn’t until he started to shove the leather jacket off Derek’s arms to reveal more of the fabric when someone finally mentioned it. “Pay attention,” Scott muttered, looking uncomfortable. Based on the way his gaze kept darting between Stiles, Derek, and the leather jacket that had been pulled half off, it obvious that Scott preferred Derek to be the one snapping orders. Even one as simple as paying more attention.

“Sorry,” Stiles muttered sheepishly, though he still tugged the leather jacket the rest of the way off Derek’s broad shoulders. The maroon sweater clung to the werewolf’s biceps in a way that made Stiles’ mouth water. He imagined what would happen if Derek flexed while wearing the tight-sleeved garment; fabric straining around the impressive musculature. The thought had him squirming to hold back a boner. Although he did manage to keep his hand to himself, more or less, Stiles struggled to follow along as the pack finished discussing their latest plans.

As soon as Derek announced the end of the meeting and started vaguely gesturing for people to start filtering out of his house, Stiles was grabbing his wrist and tugging him to the bedroom. “You’re going to fuck me in nothing but that sweater,” he ordered, already grabbing for Derek’s belt.

“But the heat-“ Derek protested, though he was cut off by Stiles yanking his jeans and boxers down in one fell swoop.

“You’ll be fine,” the teenager replied. He shoved his boyfriend to the bed, wrapped his lips around Derek’s cock, and sunk down slowly. Fully aware that werewolves already naturally ran at a high temperature, Stiles kept his pace intentionally slow with the intention of making Derek sweat. Busting out every technique he’d ever learned from equal parts porn and research, the teenager teased his boyfriend until Derek was panting. He flushed red and perspiration dripped down his face and under his sweater like raindrops.

“Stiles,” the werewolf whined. His claws slid out just enough to scratch gently at Stiles’ scalp. As if he thought the younger wouldn’t notice, Derek tugged at his sweater in an attempt to pull it off. Stiles pulled off his dick and flicked his nipple, earning a little growl. However, Derek stopped yanking at the maroon knitted fabric. It left the sweater pushed up past his chest, bunched up around his collarbones.

“You’re so red,” Stiles whispered, fawning over the flushed skin of his boyfriend’s torso. He scooted up Derek’s body in order to suck a hickey into the wolf’s hipbones. The pale skin was salty with a thin layer of sweat. “Where’d you get the sweater?” he asked, lifting his hand to trace a finger around the head of Derek’s rock-hard dick.

“Stiles,” the werewolf whined, hips jerking sporadically.

“Love you,” Stiles replied, sinking down around Derek’s cock again until his boyfriend was coming—which took promptly thirty seconds after the teasing finally ceased. Throwing his head back against the pillows, Derek let out a litany of happy noises despite the fact that some of the pack could still be within hearing range. Stiles would’ve smiled if not for the cum he was trying to swallow. Some dripped down his chin and he caught it with his finger, licking it off while maintaining heavy eye contact with Derek.

“Fuck,” the wolf groaned, reaching down to clumsily pat Stiles’ cheek in a display of fondness. “I love you too.” With that, he finally yanked the maroon sweater over his head.

Stiles allowed it, though he snatched the garment before Derek could toss it towards the laundry basket in the corner. Despite the hard-on he was still sporting, Stiles slid the sweater on. It fit him loosely, due to a complete lack of wolf-y muscles. The soft hem fell just past his ass to his upper thigh. Enjoying the incredibly soft material, he crawled up to lie down next to Derek and maybe jerk off onto the older boy’s sweaty stomach. Suddenly, Derek’s pupils dilated until his irises were thin blue rings. Claws sprouted before he could think about it and Stiles thought that his eyebrows got ever so slightly thicker.

“Th- the smell,” Derek stuttered, grabbing Stiles and yanking him close to lick at his neck as if grounding himself. Vaguely, the werewolf gestured at the sweater and Stiles’ dick where it was dripping pre-come like a faucet. After a few seconds, working through his heavy haze of arousal, Stiles got what his boyfriend was trying to say with jerky gesticulation. It was fondly reminiscent of the time Stiles had stayed cooped up in Derek’s place for six days straight without any company other than the two of them. By the end of it, Derek looked constantly dazed by just how much Stiles had smelled like his. The sweater was creating a weaker variation of that, paired with Stiles’ leaking dick and intense arousal.

“Does this mean you’ll be up for round two?” Stiles wondered, absently rubbing his dick against his boyfriend’s bare thigh.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, still nosing at the teenager’s neck.

-+-

Even after the night that Stiles had dubbed “Sweater Wetter,” (much to Derek’s chagrin) the teenager slowly stopped fixating on the sweater. Derek had suddenly added it to his rotation of shirts to be worn under that damn leather jacket. Over the next three weeks, he wore it twice plus a third time after a gray t-shirt was torn past what even Derek considered wearable. Each time ended with Stiles curled up in the sweater, blissfully sated. However, he no longer felt the need to interrogate Derek about where it’d come from—and why it didn’t have any tags sewn into it.

But when Derek showed up one day in an olive green knitted sweater, how could Stiles let that go? Not just one brand new sweater from an undisclosed location, but two? Both from the same man who owned one jacket and whose wardrobe consisted of the same plain shirts and jeans? Really, Stiles would’ve been a blind idiot if he didn’t ask at least one or two questions.

Squirming with desperate curiosity, Stiles dragged Derek off to the side before they convened with the rest of the pack. “Where are the sweaters coming from?” he asked, dancing his slender fingers over the fabric.

“We’re supposed to be searching the woods,” Derek reminded. The strange weather patterns had continued in Beacon Hills with no obvious cause. After dealing with a few other issues—issues with teeth—they finally had time to properly deal with it. Today, the pack planned to look through the woods, because everything evil liked the woods.

Stiles sighed. “You’re going to tell me eventually,” he said simply, pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips before they re-joined their friends.

“Nice sweater, Derek,” Lydia commented, having heard Stiles’ ranting about the maroon one weeks prior. Stiles sent a dirty look in her direction.

“Derek and I will take that,” Stiles gestured vaguely at a section of trees, “area,” he announced. Randomly pairing off the rest of the pack, he continued with his method of vague pointing and arm circles with the assumption that they could figure it out. Surprisingly, everyone listened and started heading out as soon as he finished. Even Derek grabbed his hand and started tugging the teenager onwards.

The couple was able to walk in comfortable quiet, linked hands swinging between them, for all of ten minutes before Stiles felt the need to speak. “Why’d everyone listen to me?” he wondered. “You’re the big scary alpha, they’re pretty much all badass werewolves, and I’m the scrawny little human. I’m the least qualified ones to make plans; I was expecting someone to shoot me down because they heard a freaky noise from one part of the woods, or something. I don’t have wolf senses. It took me twenty minutes just to pack these,” Stiles gestured at his backpack, which was similar to everyone else’s. That morning, he’d stuffed each one with anything and everything that could prove useful and forced it into his friends’ hands.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Derek replied, voice soft. His gaze had glued onto Stiles at some point during his rant, burning holes in the teenager’s pale skin. “You’re smart, Stiles. Probably smarter than most of the people in the pack, if you really wanted to be.”

Stiles scoffed. “I couldn’t even figure out where you’re getting these sweaters from,” he teased, poking at his boyfriend’s wool-clad stomach.

Derek glanced around, sniffing the air and taking on that faraway gaze he got when he was listening intently. It made his pupils shift almost imperceptibly, but Stiles had long since memorized his boyfriend’s habits and idiosyncrasies.

“I knitted them,” Derek muttered, cheeks flaming red under his stubborn gaze.

Stiles opened his mouth to respond. After a moment, he closed it, unsure of what to say. Yes, a big part of him did want to laugh, if only at the metal image of his badass werewolf boyfriend sitting around with a bunch of grandmas and chatting over their knitting needles. However, a bigger part was insanely in love with idea of Derek Hale knitting.

“I- You- When did you learn how?” Stiles eventually settled on, lifting Derek’s hand to press it against his cheek. Already, he could see the werewolf tensing up and subconsciously trying to shift away from him after spilling his secret.

“My mom taught me before, you know,” Derek replied, staring stubbornly at the leafy ground. “It helped with controlling my changes and then dealing with their deaths,” he practically whispered.

Really, how could anyone even think of laughing at that? Stiles stopped walking, forcing Derek to stop too. “I love you,” he murmured, wrapping his boyfriend in an embrace. “And you shouldn’t be embarrassed or scared to tell me stuff like this.” Unsure what else to say, Stiles settled on nestling his face in the soft fabric of Derek’s sweater.

“I love you too,” Derek replied, voice scratchy as he returned the hug.


End file.
